"Smoke!" he exclaimed. "Go down as fast as you can and tell the boys not to make a fire." When Drummond went off Thirlwell sat down and watched the smoke. It got plainer, and rose in a thick blue cloud when the mist rolled away. Somebody was cooking breakfast and the volume of smoke indicated a large fire. It looked as if there were a number of men to be fed, and Thirlwell had not expected to find Indians near the spot just then. After a time, the smoke died away and he went back to camp, but told Agatha nothing about what he had seen. When breakfast was over he took one of the _Metis_ and plunged into the bush. There was not much need for caution, because the party would, no doubt, set off when they had finished their meal, and if they were Indians, it did not matter if he met them. But he did not think they were Indians. When he had gone a mile or two, he stopped at the edge of a muskeg and sent the _Metis_ on to a clump of pines on the other side. The man, keeping in the shadow, stole round the swamp, and vanished noiselessly in the underbrush. After a time, he reappeared, beckoning, and Thirlwell knitted his brows when he joined him. The ashes of a fire smoldered between two hearth-logs; white chips and broken branches were scattered about. Near his feet were six small round holes, spaced in a regular pattern, and a cotton flour-bag and some empty cans lay beneath a bush. "A white man's camp; they had a tent," he said. "Sure," agreed the _Metis_. "Teepee poles they not mak' hole lak' dat." "Well, I reckon a sour-dough prospector wouldn't have bothered about a tent. Looks as if one of them was a tenderfoot. _Qu'en pense-tu?_" The _Metis'_ keen eyes had wandered round the camp and he nodded. "But, yes! Dat man _sait vivre_; he lak' it comfortable." "A city man!" Thirlwell remarked, with a frown. How many packers?" "_Quat_," said the _Metis_. "_Voyageurs?_" The _Metis_ laughed scornfully as he indicated the trampled brush, broken branches, greasy papers, and scraps of food. "Me, I think no! Railroad outfit. _Voyageur_ not muss up camp lak' dat." Thirlwell agreed. A half-breed _voyageur_ does not waste food, and with inherited caution seldom disturbs the bush. It looked as if the city man had engaged a gang of track-layers, who are used to pioneering and sometimes carry surveyors' stores through the wilds. "Well," he said, "we'll follow their trail." The party had obviously left the water for a time, because their track led away from the creek in the valley and the bush was too thick to permit the portaging of canoes. Thirlwell followed the trail until he satisfied himself that they were going east, and then went back to his camp. Finding Agatha at the water's edge he sat down opposite. "I'm afraid you didn't get much breakfast, but I didn't want the fire lighted," he said, and told her what he had seen. "Ah!" she cried. "Do you think Stormont is looking for the ore?" "I think so; I'm not certain."